


caught between a rock and a hard on

by OverMyFreckledBody



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Oxenfree Fusion, Human Bill Cipher, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Making Out, Seven Minutes In Heaven Game, this got more wholesome than I intended
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:28:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24893158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverMyFreckledBody/pseuds/OverMyFreckledBody
Summary: Because, really? Fuck, marry, kill? How much more cliché could they get? A bunch of teenagers sneaking out to the beach to play party games and get high around a campfire? He’s already regretting letting Mabel talk him into this.---Or, Dipper insinuates something about Bill's skills, so Bill has to prove him wrong with another famous party game.Yeah, it's beach make outs.
Relationships: Bill Cipher/Dipper Pines
Comments: 12
Kudos: 166





	caught between a rock and a hard on

**Author's Note:**

> shout out to my bud who not only introduced me to oxenfree, but listened to me ramble 3 separate billdip aus set in the game after i binged it
> 
> you're a real one, chief. hope today bangs
> 
> [listened to this album as i wrote, doesn't really apply or is necessary, but y'know. it's here if you want it](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL81_CtYCym29FDU_2PcWXHKqMuSbMsDKC)
> 
> and yeah, i laughed at my own title. what about it

“This is stupid.” Pacifica crosses her arms with a sneer. Her statement comes with no surprise to the rest of the group. Dipper had spent the entire walk anticipating this exact moment. She’d been _too_ quiet up until now and he’d been waiting for the complaints to come out. He just thought it would be about something dumb like getting sand in her shoes or otherwise minuscule. However, this is something he can almost agree with her on.

Because, really? Fuck, marry, kill? How much more cliché could they get? A bunch of teenagers sneaking out to the beach to play party games and get high around a campfire? He’s already regretting letting Mabel talk him into this.

“You’re stupid,” Bill says back childishly, and Dipper has to hide a stifled chuckle behind his palm. He’s successful enough in not gaining Bill’s attention, but Pacifica catches him and shoots him a dirty look. What? Even if he agrees with her – not that he’ll say it – he’s not _not_ amused by any retorts her snotty comments may garner.

Mabel is quick to diffuse the situation by waving her hands in the air between everybody with her usual, cheery smile. “Aw, come on you guys! It’ll be fun! Just a couple rounds and then we’ll switch it up. I’m sure we can find something for everybody.”

Dipper doubts that, unless she’s counting multiple different activities, but wisely keeps his mouth shut.

“Fine,” Pacifica relents, though she doesn’t look all that appeased. “But I go first.”

Mabel lights up and reaches over to give her friend a pat on the arm. Pacifica’s eyes dart downward towards the contact. “That’s the spirit!”

Rolling her eyes, Pacifica looks between the three of her potential victims. Her eyes land on Dipper and, knowing that she hasn’t forgotten his laughing at her, he tenses. “Okay. Dipper,” she begins slowly, as if she’s thinking out her question. But he knows, especially with the cold way she holds his eyes, that she already knows exactly what she wants to ask. “The three of us here. Me, Mabel, Bill. Go.”

Immediately, he grimaces. “Really, my own sister? Can’t you substitute her with someone else?”

Mabel laughs, not all that offended, but not that disgusted either. Of course, she wouldn’t take his side if it meant something to laugh at him for. Pacifica keeps up that heavy eye contact and says nothing, but Bill coughs something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like _pussy_. With a sigh and a rolling of his own eyes, Dipper sags back and thinks about it.

At least one of the options is easy enough to immediately come to mind. “Sorry, Mabel,” he says to his sister, who makes a face of mock-hurt and clutches a hand to her chest. “But I’m not gonna do either of those with you, so I guess you’re dead.”

“It’s okay, Dippy,” Mabel says, reaching over to pat him next. “I can always haunt you as a ghost.”

He grins at her. “Looking forward to it.”

The next choice is much harder. He presses his lips together and thinks about it. He keeps coming up with the same question, to which he can’t answer. He looks around the group, all watching him with varying levels of amusement. He voices his dilemma aloud.

“What I can’t decide is… what’s worse? Being stuck with Bill or having to actually have sex with him?” Mabel spits out a startled laugh; Pacifica’s eyebrows shoot up, while Bill’s scrunch down and together. Dipper continues with a shrug, “I honestly can’t imagine Bill being a very good lover.”

“Excuse you, Pine Tree,” Bill cuts in. Dipper rolls his eyes at the nickname. Bill leans back, all forced casualness that Dipper can see right through. With an air of poise that makes Dipper smirk, he gestures vaguely in front of himself. “I’d be a _wonderful_ lover.”

Dipper’s response is immediate. “I bet you’re just as selfish in the sack as you are everywhere else.”

Since he’s staring Bill down throughout this (and ignoring Mabel’s increasingly louder giggles that even have Pacifica threatening to join in), he can see how exactly that comment hits. Bill freezes, eyes closed in that pose he was making, body entirely still for a second before he opens them and turns to Dipper. It’s a slow, concentrated movement. Oh, yeah. That rightly pissed him off.

Bill’s always had a tight leash over his ego. Too bad it’s so big it’s not even an effort to hit.

“Okay, fine,” Bill says stiffly, jaw twitching just the smallest bit. God, he is so _easy_. “How about a little _seven minutes in heaven_?”

Psh, like that’s going to prove anything. Dipper knows better than that. So, he just grins and replies, “You only last seven minutes?” He tsks, knowing his disappointment – fake as it is – will only rile Bill further. “That’s exactly what I was afraid of.”

Bill’s expression darkens quick. It is an oh, _so_ sweet sight. Especially for all the bullshit he normally pulls.

Dipper turns to the forgotten two girls, about to make another comment when Bill, unwatched, mutters, “Alright, that’s it.”

Then, before Dipper can look back at him, he’s being yanked up by his arm – and not all that lightly, either, ouch – and suddenly this isn’t that funny anymore. Shit. He opens his mouth to ask for maybe a little help, but then Bill jerks him out of the circle and only a yelp comes out. Bill’s fingers flex on the sound.

Like he liked it. Probably laughing at Dipper, too, the asshole.

“Are you going to be okay, Dipper?” Mabel asks from behind their rapidly leaving backs, but she doesn’t sound all that concerned. Traitor. Pacifica says something under her breath, probably some variant close to _don’t dish what you can’t take_ by the sounds of it, and Mabel giggles, forgetting her brother easily.

Damn it. This is why he shouldn’t have let himself be talked into this mess.

And maybe he shouldn’t have started anything with Bill, knowing how volatile the guy is, but damn, he makes it so _easy_! It’s always like he’s asking for it, begging to be hit with a good zinger. Plus, it isn’t like he isn’t doing the same to Dipper most days, anyway. Today just happened to fall more in Dipper’s favor than usual. Or, it had been, until he got a little too cocky and jumped the gun.

Damn it, this was nobody’s fault but his own. Still, he wished that Mabel would back him up at least a little bit. Seriously, like, come _on_!

Bill doesn’t take them far, just ducking behind some tall, nearby rocks. He can still hear the carrying voices from the campfire from here, but his head, focused on what’s about to happen to him, doesn’t try to parse what the newest topic is. Once properly situated, Bill wastes no time.

Backing Dipper against one of the rocks, he grabs Dipper’s face between both palms – warm and terribly soft, does he moisturize? – and ducks in. Dipper’s eyes widen and he feels the puff of Bill’s breath before their lips seal together.

Holy shit. This? He’s doing _this_?

Well, okay, that kind of makes sense, a little. Dipper’s words probably bruised something. If he proves Dipper wrong, he can absolve that pain before it settles and makes him even angrier. Still, though.

Really?

Over a dumb couple jokes?

Maybe he’s in shock, because he doesn’t close his eyes and he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, but Bill doesn’t seem all that upset by Dipper’s lack of response. Instead, he only presses in further – Dipper finds his back being chilled by the cold, rough rock – and adds more pressure with his mouth. He is… close. Bill is really close. He smells like smoke, but different than the fire that burns behind them. Something sharper, something that gets caught in Dipper’s nostrils and slides thick, sticking down the back of his throat. He swallows around a sudden, flooding mouth of saliva right as Bill’s tongue peeks out and traces the seam of Dipper’s lips. Dipper jumps at its appearance.

His thoughts are fuzzy, everything radio static in his head, but he’s pretty sure he feels the corners of Bill’s twitch at his reaction.

Dipper... isn’t fighting this. He could be pushing Bill back, or trying to speak – if he wants a mouthful of Bill’s tongue, maybe – but he… isn’t. He just isn’t.

It could be that it’s his first kiss. Because it is. And he didn’t expect to be giving it to Bill freaking Cipher. (Even if he’d thought about it, maybe once or twice – or seventeen, eighteen times, eh, close enough – not that that matters, of course.) It could be just as likely that it’s… not bad.

It’s kind of a good kiss. It _feels_ good.

He doesn’t _want_ to fight it.

So, maybe that’s why his eyes do flutter closed and he parts his lips, just a little. Just enough for Bill to nudge his way inside, to welcome that warm, really warm tongue inside. After all, it’s kind of chilly out here. Wouldn’t want to freeze anybody out.

Once Dipper gets over the shock, he allows himself to touch Bill back. His first instinct is to go straight for Bill’s hair – his distracting, beautiful, _fucking_ hair. It’s just as soft as it always looked, as he always wondered but never asked. It’s fine and slips between his fingers, so Dipper makes a mess of it as he runs his fingers through the silky strands. Bill’s own hands move too, slow, lingering drags that show Bill’s appreciation for Dipper finally joining in in ways his mouth doesn’t have to verbalize.

They slide down, thumbing his jawline along the way, and stroke the thin skin of Dipper’s neck. They pause at his pulse point, pushing in just _so_ in a way that stimulates his blood to pump _faster_. Dipper shivers at the idea of Bill _feeling his heartbeat_ , as if he’s looking for even more physical proof that he’s _enjoying_ this.

Of course, he would. He’s a narcissist like that. It shouldn’t be hot, though. Why is it hot? Ugh.

When they get to the base of his neck, they circle more tightly, and Dipper lets out a puff of air, surprised, but leans into them best he can. This feels different, slightly. Not just like he’s feeling for Dipper’s rushing, pounding veins. A little more… _dominance_. Makes Dipper a little more breathless. Quite a feat, with what he was already doing.

All the while, his tongue continues to creep around the inside of Dipper’s mouth. All of Bill’s movements are slow, calculated, and so, so horribly, deliciously good. The tip of his tongue edges the outline of Dipper’s gums, tastes each of his teeth. It caresses his own, curling around the shape, coaxing out curious movements that Dipper cannot control. Bill teases him with it, each push before he pulls back an attempt at drawing Dipper out with him, a flirtatious _join in, the water’s warm_.

Dipper finds himself moving his head with it, trying to follow after Bill when he retreats, but letting himself be pushed backward when Bill dives in again. He catches his fingers clenching and unclenching in Bill’s hair, trying to tug him in closer. And, listening to his wordless request, Bill does step in again, pressing Dipper even further against the rock. Bill’s thighs are warm, hot, solid heats against his own. A knee slips between his own, knocking his legs apart to make room.

His breathing has really started to pick up, and this is when Bill’s hands go on the move again. They run over his shoulders, down his sides, pressing in on his ribs. His neck feels cold, empty where they used to be. Everywhere they touch is set ablaze. The skin tingles and lights up with electricity. He thinks he gulps. Maybe. Either way, Bill’s tongue is somehow farther into his mouth, and Dipper can’t find it in himself to complain.

Then. Then, those hands slide up again, cupping his chest cage, while the thumbs press in, digging deep, carving their pathways in his skin. Even through his shirt, he feels them, as if they are attempting to press their way into him, reaching for something else, something deeper. It’s then that they reach high enough and find whatever they were looking for.

It’s obvious what it is when it happens. Especially because Dipper jerks and gasps.

If he thought the tingles were electricity, then the attention his nipples are suddenly getting is _lightning_.

Bolts of it, nerves reacting, blood movement, everything his body has to offer, jumps between each peak and sharp, sharply _down_. He can actually feel the way his dick _twitches_ in the confines of his shorts. He squirms because of it, which only lets that other leg worm its way further in. Somehow, somehow Bill is even closer.

Bill does not ignore this reaction.

No, his thumbs press even harder into Dipper, beginning to even _roll_ the nubs, which leaves Dipper shaking from the stimulation. Holy shit. They aren’t like this the few times he’s touched them experimentally as he jerked off. How can they be so different with _Bill_?

Despite Dipper’s need to suck more air in than at the beginning of all this, his tongue finds its way out from the safety of his own mouth and braving the hot, hot warmth of Bill’s own. Which means, of course, that Bill spares no hesitation in _sucking_ it even further in.

That is when Dipper feels his knees go a little weak. He slips.

His fingers tighten in Bill’s hair as he falls an inch down the rock. However, instead of collapsing on the ground like he expects to, Dipper gets caught by a firm knee, conveniently nestled so nicely into the crease of his legs.

His fingernails claw into Bill’s scalp. Bill’s knee jumps upward, pressing, pressing _hard_ right into Dipper’s cock. He moans, but the sound is lost, swallowed up by Bill’s mouth.

Now, brainless and dizzy and stupid from the blood pouring everywhere _but_ his brain, Dipper feels no shame in beginning to push against it. It feels so good. So good. He could get off to it. If he just rocked against it… if Bill kept touching him, kept swallowing around him just like that…

Abrupt. A sudden, halting movement. Bill pulls back. Everywhere. Every bit of him that was touching Dipper, taking Dipper apart. All ripped away.

Dipper stumbles, blinking rapidly, and has to brace himself against the rock to keep himself from falling over.

What…

What? Why is he stopping? Dipper was so cl…

Bill, even inches between them, no longer touching him, looks just as debauched as Dipper _feels_. His hair is _everywhere_ , sticking up at wild angles, wilder than Dipper has ever seen it. It’s _absolutely_ sex hair, if nothing else. In this darkness, his eyes are close to back. He cannot tell where the pupil ends and the iris begins; it’s as if the entire thing has been swallowed up. He pants at Dipper, their breathing out of sync, but equally heavy.

With the back of a heavy hand, he wipes over his open mouth. Dipper is thrust with the strongest urge to lick the spit from him, swallow it back into his mouth where it belongs. Between _their_ mouths. Bill doesn’t look away from him, even as he says, “Seven minutes are up.”

Seven…? It felt like way longer than seven minutes. And…

Oh, right. That’s why…

Even struck with the reminder that this was to prove a point, Dipper can’t bring himself to feel any disappointment. It doesn’t feel like it was _just_ to prove a point, now, in the aftermath.

If not in the way Bill looks now, the way he can’t stop staring at Dipper as they try to regain control over their breathing, it’s the way his words delivered themselves. He was probably aiming for cocky, self-assured. But the breathlessness of it, the way Dipper can still feel his hair between his fingers, takes away from that.

“How’s that for a selfish lover?” He pants next. Dipper doesn’t reply. He watches the way Bill’s tongue dips out to swipe away whatever his hand didn’t catch. He mirrors the movement. Lashes dipping, Bill clearly watches him right back.

Though it takes another couple minutes – silent, stilted minutes full of stares and unspoken words – for them to calm down again, they do. It takes Dipper turning away and shoving a hand down his shorts to adjust himself (greedily absorbing the sharp, almost hysterical exhale Bill makes behind him); as well as Bill pulling his phone out to adjust his hair somewhat back to normal – impossible, at this point, however – like the vain creature that he is. Dipper is caught toeing the line between amusement and wonder at Bill not keeping it like some kind of trophy to lord over. Nothing says _I’m good in the sack and Dipper Pines knows it_ like truly disheveled, absolutely finger-fucked hair.

Especially when Mabel, who’s heard Dipper comment on said hair a few times too many, would immediately know.

Not that Bill knows that. Fortunate that he doesn’t, actually. Very, very fortunate for Dipper.

When they make it back to the campfire, no longer being dragged around by the arm, they’re greeted by smug smirks and knowing looks. Maybe for once, like, ever, Mabel doesn’t burst into giggles, though it’s obvious she wants to. He sticks a tongue out at her, which only makes her look _more_ amused of course, but otherwise ignores it. He settles down into the sand again and avoids looking at Bill.

He feels him, though. He doesn’t need to see him to know where he is. It’s as if he can still feel the heat of him, the touch of his hands, scraping against his skin and shirt. That damned leg…

Plus, Bill sits down closer to him this time. Not enough to warrant a comment, but Dipper notices. Of course he does.

“Soooooo,” Mabel crows, lacing her fingers behind her back and leaning forward into his space. He scowls and leans back. She isn’t deterred.

“So, what?” He spits – or tries to. He doesn’t sound as grumpy as he tries to. That’s what a good kiss will do to him, he guesses.

But if she asks him how it was, especially here in front of Pacifica and Bill, he’s sure this nice buzz will go right down the drain.

It’s Pacifica that replies. Her voice makes him look up, and she’s got a twinkle in her eye that’s sure only comes from him when he’s suffering. “You never answered the question. You killed Mabel, then what?”

Dipper freezes. Oh, man. He had completely forgotten about that. Next to him, close but not too close, Bill shifts in place. Tingles erupt all down his back.

Gross. God. It’s like he can’t freaking _think_.

No. No, at this rate he isn’t going to be able to survive the night. No, something has to change. He needs… he needs some space. Or something. Away from Bill. To get his head on straight. Yeah.

Yeah! That’s exactly what he needs.

Leaving the question unanswered, he stands right back up. On his way, he grabs Mabel’s hand and pulls her along with him. Unlike when he was tugged up and away earlier, she doesn’t fight it. She probably knows what he needs just as much as he does.

He doesn’t look at any of them. Their silence says enough. He doesn’t need to hear the laughter to know it’s there, doesn’t need to see their eyes to know they’re full of mirth, their lips tweaked up in the corners.

“Come on,” he says, apropos to… nothing, because nobody has said anything. They’ve all been waiting for him to either answer the question or have his usual freak out. “You promised that we’d check out the ghost caves.”

Something that neither Bill nor Pacifica cared for – in fact, complained about on the ride here – but that’s okay, because they’re here to smoke, and the smell of grass makes him want to gag, anyway. It’s his best way and reason to get out from the too big bubble of Bill’s heat and attention. And he’s sure Mabel is going to want details, so it’s best to get them out of the way now, while his brain’s still not _on_ enough to be all _that_ embarrassed.

“Woo, ghost caves!” Mabel cheers, and her simple excitement is more of a relief than he cares to admit. They make their way to the chain-link fence that blocks the mouth of said caves and she begins to chant, “Ghost caves! Ghost caves! Ghost caves!”

Dipper laughs. He chants with her, too, albeit not nearly as loud. She grins at him as he does, and he mirrors it. Her enthusiasm really is too infectious.

It’s only after they’re both over the fence that he spares a glance back. Drawn like a magnet, his eyes search out Bill the second he looks in that direction. Only, he finds that Bill’s already staring at him, likely having been doing so the entire time. He holds Dipper’s eyes as he pulls out a prepared roll and lifts a lighter up to it, cupping against the breeze.

The flame, small and bright, looks nothing like the heat that burns in Bill’s hooded eyes.

Dipper watches as Bill then slips the lit blunt to his lips and sucks, hollowing his cheeks more, definitely more, than he needs to. His tongue comes up to probe one of his cheeks, sporting an obvious bulge that makes Dipper’s face flush bright, hot red.

He jerks back and spins on his heel, biting his lip to keep himself from muttering under his breath. He hears a laugh, a cackle more like, and Pacifica demanding that he _stop being a hoarding prick and pass it over_. Mabel falls into step with him and lets out a sunny, “Alright, let’s go! Adventure awaits us, brother dear!”

Man. He sure hopes so. Anything to distract him right now would be just _wonderful_.

Rolling his shoulders and thinking back on just what he’s heard about these caves, he empties his head of everything else. “So, according to local history, it’s pretty common to hear _voices_ through certain radio channels. Sometimes, the voices even answer if you ask them questions, but they have to be short, because…”

Yeah, this is _exactly_ what he needs.

**Author's Note:**

> those 2 other billdip aus for this game..... could one day exist. but don't get your hopes up. my writing soul is a finicky bitch and does what she wants


End file.
